


Guardian Gays Give Dating Advice

by shortinsomniacs (Liv_Golightly)



Series: Babysitter Marvin ™: A Three-Part Mini Opera [2]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Babysitter Marvin, Emily needs advice, Gen, High School AU, M/M, Marvin and Whizzer are sorta adults, Marvin's a dick, Shenanigans, but he's calmed down, gay "dads" give dating advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 11:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liv_Golightly/pseuds/shortinsomniacs
Summary: A continuation of Babysitter Marvin™ and Emily's adventures. Emily shows up on Marvin's doorstep in the middle of the night. A sorta-serious conversation ensues.





	Guardian Gays Give Dating Advice

**Author's Note:**

> part two of the Babysitter Marvin™ collection based off of falsettolandhigh's amazingly hilarious tumblr. i do not own Falsettos. all rights go to the creators.

“I’m going to fucking murder whoever’s at the door,” you grumble, untangling yourself from Whizzer’s warm hold.

 

“Mm, honey, put some pants on at least,” Whizzer replies with an easy grin and a kiss to your cheek. “I mean, I love your cock, but I don’t think we want to scare the poor schmuck. They probably just need to borrow some flour or something.”

 

“Whizzer, who even _needs_ flour at 11:45 PM?”

 

“I don’t _know_ , Marv, just _answer the door_! Whoever’s there sounds like they’re going to break it down!”

 

You huff and grab some sweatpants and a t-shirt off the floor, where Whizzer tossed it before the two of you became, ahem, _busy_. You trudge down the stairs. You fiddle with the lock on the door, and you’re about to bawl out the person who had the _audacity_ to interrupt your wonderful post-sex cuddling, because _you like it, okay_ , and—

 

There’s a tiny, curly-haired blonde standing on your stoop looking like she’s about to burst into tears.

 

“Marvin?” Emily whispers, and God, she looks distraught. Is someone dead? Oh, God, has Bea the dog died?

 

Immediately, all the anger dissipates.

 

“Emily, what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly. “Are you all right?”

 

“Can I—can I come in?” she responds.

 

“Oh! Of course, honey, get in here!” You pause. “Um, Emily? How _did_ you get here, exactly?”

 

“I drove.”

 

“…you drove here. From Connecticut. At 11:45 PM. Do your parents know where you are?”

 

“I left them a note on my mom’s bedside table.”

 

“So you left your parents a note and drove into Manhattan _by_ _yourself_ in the middle of the night?”

 

She rolls her eyes with a force that puts Whizzer to shame. “Marv, I’m sixteen, not six! I can drive, you know!”

 

“Well, you’re about the size of a six-year-old, so.”

 

“Shut _up_ , Marvin. I am having a fucking _life crisis_ right now, butthead! I do not need your snarky gay commentary!”

 

You blink. “Did you really just call me a butthead?”

 

“Marvin!”

 

You chuckle, but sober. “Let’s sit down, and you can tell me what’s wrong.” You turn towards the stairs and cup your hands around your mouth. “ _Whizzer_!”

 

“Yes, dear?” his voice floats down the stairs.

 

“Emily’s, um, having a bit of a crisis. Do you think you could make us some tea?”

 

“ _Emily_?” he asks, surprised. “Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

 

You beckon towards the staircase. “Come on, Em, the kitchen and everything else is upstairs. We only keep the bar down here.”

 

Emily trudges upstairs behind you, all the way to the top floor, where the kitchen and the den are. Whizzer is standing in the kitchen, thankfully clothed, busy with the kettle. He’s pulling down mugs from the cabinets.

 

You collapse on the couch and pat the spot next to you. “Come here, kiddo. Whatever this is, we’ll work it out.”

 

“But this is fucking _awful_ ,” Emily groans, putting her head in her hands.

 

“Relax, honey, you’re going to be fine,” Whizzer soothes, depositing a steaming mug in her hands and kissing the top of her head. “What’s up?”

 

A distinctly uncomfortable look crosses over Emily’s face, and she starts to wring her hands. “Um, I’m—um. The thing is that—um, I— um.” She pauses. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

 

“Emily, it’s okay. We’re not going to rip your head off, sweetie. Marv might, but he only bites on Tuesdays, and it’s Thursday, so we’ve dodged that bullet.”

 

You roll your eyes. “Thanks, Whiz.”

 

“What? It’s true! But I love you anyway, you big grump.”

 

You can’t help but chuckle, and you lean over to kiss his cheek. “I love you too, you pompous asshole.”

 

“Oh, sweetie, I _know_ you love my asshole. And my co—”

 

“—okay, please don’t go there, oh my Jesus _lord_ ,” Emily interrupts, blushing.

 

“Aren’t you Jewish?” Whizzer asks, amused.

 

“Shut _up_ , Whizzer! _Anyway_. I was in the middle of a fucking _crisis_ here!”

 

“Sorry, Emily. Spill your guts!”

 

She takes a deep breath. “So. Um. I’m, like—well. I’m really super fucking gay.”

 

“Emily,” you say gently, “I’ve known that since you were six, kiddo. And, uh, I thought everyone knew that?”

 

“That’s not the _problem_ , Marvin,” she replies impatiently. “The problem is that I’m really gay, and having lots of really gay feelings. _About a girl_. And I, like, don’t know how to ask her out?”

 

You and Whizzer glance at each other and burst out laughing.

 

“ _Why are you_ _laughing_?” Emily shrieks. “ _This isn’t funny_!”

 

 

Oh, Jesus, you need to calm down. And it’s not that it’s funny, exactly, but this is actually really sweet. It’s kind of adorable that she’s come all the way to you and Whizzer for help. Whizzer had mentioned once that the two of you were like Emily’s literal fairy godfathers, and you guess that’s true. So it’s time to get her to the ball with the handsome princess. Or, at least, get her to ask the princess to the ball in the first place.

 

“I’m sorry, Emily,” you apologize. “Really. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

 

Her hands are on her hips. “Oh, really? Then why did you?”

 

You sigh. “Because it’s kinda making me feel nostalgic, kid. I remember when I tried to ask Whizzer out for the first time, and it was…not smooth.”

 

“But we’ve been together for twelve years, so I think it’s safe to say he’s done something right,” Whizzer chimes in.

 

You blink. “Twelve years? Christ, I’m old.”

 

“Marvin, honey, you’re twenty-seven. Shut the fuck up.”

 

Emily giggles, and you pull her into a hug. “So, you wanna ask this girl out, huh? What’s her name?”

 

She blushes. “Um, her name is Madi. And she’s really funny and pretty and smart and I really really really like her.”

 

You chuckle. “I can see that, kiddo. So, Emily, what you have to do is—”

 

Whizzer cuts you off. "Emily, honey, no, do _not_ listen to him, he's completely hopeless. Look at what he's _wearing_ , for Christ's sake! If he didn't have me to match his clothing, he'd be an absolute wreck at the office.”

 

You roll your eyes. “Micah Whizzer Brown, I swear to God, I’m going to kill you.”

 

"Marvin, drink your fucking tea and let me do my job. You’re good at lawyering, yeah, but I’m good at everything else.”

 

"Whizzer, she came for _my_ help!"

 

Emily blushes. She looks vaguely…guilty? "Well, um, actually..."

 

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding. That’s rich.

 

You grumble and cross your arms. "Honey, I fucking raised you, and you’re rejecting me?”

 

"I mean, my _parents_ raised me, but like, okay, whatever makes you feel better,” Emily says, giving you that shit-eating grin of hers.

 

"EMILY LIORA BLUMEFELD, HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT YOUR GAY FATHER!”

 

“Father? You know, Marvin, you have to like vaginas to get someone pregnant. Remember that time I walked in on you and Whizzer? Yeah, you don't like vaginas."

 

"I try to forget about that time, actually."

 

Whizzer and Emily burst into loud laughter, and Whizzer kisses your cheek. “Marv, sweetie, you’re ridiculous. Just because I’m better at the dating advice part doesn’t mean that our not-kid loves you any less.”

 

“Yeah,” Emily chimes in. “Last time I checked, _Whizzer_ wasn’t going to watch _The Hobbit_ with me.”

 

“Um, yeah, because _The Hobbit_ is fucking terrible! I’m not denying that Ian McKellen is a gay icon, but if you’re expecting me to sit through ten excruciating hours of him being inferior to Dumbledore in literally every way, you picked the wrong man.”

 

“Whizzer, I think I’m going to have to divorce you for that,” you tease.

 

“Well, it’s been a lovely two years of marriage, sweetie. At least we can say that we outlasted the length of my parents’.”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” you laugh, pulling him into a kiss. “And for the record, Whizzer Brown _Levine_ , you’re stuck with me. Even if you do hate Hobbits.”

 

“I mean, I’d watch it if you really, really wanted me to.”

 

You chuckle. “No, you wouldn’t. You fucking hate it.”

 

“I do,” Whizzer concedes. “But you know what I love?”

 

“Mm, Italian leather oxfords? Expensive brunch? Baseball?”

 

“Ooh, I do love all of those things…but no, not what I was thinking of.”

 

“Then what might it be?”

 

“My husband.”

 

You pull him in for another kiss. “God, you’re a sap.”

 

Even though you know how to map Whizzer’s entire body by now, you’re always pleasantly surprised to see how soft and warm and inviting his lips are. You can feel him smile against your own.

 

After a few minutes, Emily clears her throat. “Not that I’m like, unhappy to see you two ridiculous saps in love or whatever, but A) I don’t want to see you have sex, and B) how the hell do I ask this girl out? We didn’t get to that part.”

 

Oh. Right. Emily. Life crisis.

 

“Well,” you begin, “what does she like? What do you both have in common that might be a good idea for a date?”

 

“She’s in art with me, and she paints the most beautiful portraits I’ve ever seen. I know she likes rock climbing, because she works at the climbing gym after school…and I know she takes cooking class, so I guess she also likes to cook? I don’t want to ask her to go to the movies, or to dinner, because that seems kinda _boring_ , y’know?”

 

“Hmmm…what about going to the climbing gym with her?”

 

“I’ll end up sweating my makeup off!”

 

“You look perfectly fine without makeup, Emily.”

 

She grumbles. “No, no, I don’t want her to see me without makeup!”

 

“First of all,” Whizzer chimes in, “Marvin’s right: you _do_ look perfectly fine without makeup. And yes, we’re biased, but it’s also totally true. Secondly, if you feel more comfortable with makeup, then save the rock climbing for another time. But let’s face it: if this girl really likes you, then she’s not going to care whether or not you have makeup on. If she does…find yourself another girl, Emily.”

 

“I mean, I don’t think she’s going to care. She doesn’t seem like that type of person. I just want to wear makeup because _I_ feel comfortable in it.”

 

“Good! Do what makes you feel good, honey. Except for drugs. They’ll fuck you up no matter how good they feel. And sex—for the love of Jesus, use condoms! And—”

 

“Oh my God, Whizzer, _please stop talking_ ,” Emily pleads. “I don’t need a sex talk from you.  The one with my actual parents was horrifying enough!”

 

You chuckle. “I don’t think any parent gets through that without scarring their kid, honestly.”

 

“Well, how about you maybe don’t scar me for life and help me figure out how to _ask this girl out_?”

 

“As much as you say dinner is boring, it’s really not a bad idea, kiddo. It gives you time to get to know each other better. If you’re worried about it being boring, why don’t you try something like a picnic in the park? You said she likes to cook. Kill two birds with one stone: you can ‘cook’ together, and then you guys get a chance to hang out.”

 

“That was surprisingly insightful, Marv,” Whizzer muses, raising an eyebrow. “Why the hell haven’t _we_ gone on a picnic?”

 

“Hey, I can be insightful!” you protest. “I’m a _lawyer_ , I have to know how to be insightful!”

 

“I’m just teasing,” Whizzer soothes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “God knows why you like to keep your secret romantic side hidden, you big schmaltzy dork.” He turns to Emily. “What do you think, Em?”

 

She grins. “I think that’s the best idea anyone’s had all night. Beats anything I could’ve come up with.” She wraps her arms around you. “Thanks, Marv. You’re the real MVP.”

 

“Of course, kiddo.”

 

“Sorry for barging at nearly midnight, by the way. You looked like your eyes were about to shoot lasers when you answered the door.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Like you said, it was a fucking crisis. Well. Maybe not, but you’re lucky I love you!”

 

“Love you, too,” she replies, covering her mouth as she yawns.

 

“You wanna crash in the spare bedroom? There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive home at this hour. I’ll even leave Christina a voicemail so she doesn’t drive down here herself and try to murder you for sneaking out.”

 

“Marvin, what did I do to deserve you?”

 

“Prayed to the Gay Babysitter gods?”

 

Whizzer bursts into laughter. “Is that the gay agenda? Getting some Guardian Gays to look out for the Baby Gays?”

 

“Well, I don’t know about the other gay kids, but I think I’ve got the two damn best Guardian Gays I could’ve asked for,” Emily grins, pressing a kiss to yours and Whizzer’s cheeks.

 

“Guardian Gays,” Whizzer chuckles. “I’m making us jackets, Marv! We’re gonna look better than the Pink Ladies, and that’s saying something!”

 

“You’re ridiculous, Whizzer Brown.”

 

“Oh, you know it, honey. But you wouldn’t have me any other way!”

 

“No,” you hum in agreement, kissing his cheek. “I certainly wouldn’t.”


End file.
